


Sky People Stick Together

by Androids_in_Metropolis



Series: Murdurphy Tumblr Prompts [2]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: AU, Cute, F/M, Family, Fluff, Funny, Gen, Parent Bellamy, Parent Clarke
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-14
Updated: 2015-08-14
Packaged: 2018-04-14 15:03:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4568958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Androids_in_Metropolis/pseuds/Androids_in_Metropolis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is just a little sequel to a one shot I wrote asked for by one of my readers. I hope you guys enjoy! </p><p>Slightly relevant to http://archiveofourown.org/works/4557036, though the first can be read alone, as this is just an add-on I created as a favour. </p><p>-----</p><p>Murphy is being accepted as the baby of the family that Clarke and Bellamy have created.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sky People Stick Together

When Murphy woke up the next morning he was surprised to find himself folded in someone’s arms, his head crushed on someone’s chest. He wondered if something had happened to him, if he was okay. He wondered if he was dying...surely that was the only reason someone would be holding him so close. Maybe everything had been a nightmare and he was back at home in his dad’s arms. He still had the flu, but his dad hadn’t taken the medicine. That was all a dream...maybe his mom was in the kitchen, making tea or something…

“Dad?” he asked, his eyes still closed. His eyelids felt too heavy...he didn’t want to open his eyes. His head was pounding, but he wasn’t freezing any more. He felt comfortably warm, but his stomach still sloshed around. Opening his eyes might ruin the dream. One of these must be dreams...It was either he was a kid back on the Ark or he was dying on the ground. He hoped it was the former. 

Bellamy shook himself awake, looking down as he heard Murphy’s cracked voice. He was talking to his father. Bellamy was torn between laughing at him and letting his heart break a little for him. Looking over at Clarke who was leaning on his shoulder, still asleep, he chose the nice way and let his heart break as he wrapped his arm more tightly around Murphy’s tiny torso. 

“Hey, Murphy,” he whispered, shaking the younger’s shoulder lightly. “Murphy, you aren’t on the Ark. You’re on earth. You’re with Bellamy and Clarke,” he told him, his heart cracking a little more as Murphy began to cry, wetting Bellamy’s shirt and touching his skin. 

He wasn’t on the Ark. His parents weren’t alive…They had died on the Ark, and now he was dying on the ground. He cried softly, his shoulders shaking as he felt what must have been Bellamy’s arm holding him tightly. He was crying into the other man’s chest, his fingers digging into the skin beneath the shirt. 

“I’m dying, aren’t I?” he whimpered, ashamed of his ters. Then again, if he was dying, there was no point in protecting his image. They wouldn’t remember him favourably anyway. He never did anything to be remembered for at all. Even killing would just make his name known, not the person. Enough people had died in the past few months that his kills wouldn’t matter in the grand map of the dead. 

“No,” Bellamy laughs, “you aren’t dying,” he told the younger, pulling him into a sitting position so that he could look him in the face. He saw the younger open his eyes, and he smiled softly. “You’re gonna be okay now, Murphy.” Bellamy looked Murphy steadily in the eyes like he had something to say, but really he was just wondering what he could say. 

Murphy looked at him again, his eyes filled with confusion and fever shine. He was so confused...he was tired, he felt sick, and his life was upside down. He should be in his tent, crying himself to sleep unless he was vomiting himself awake. He was tired...so tired. It didn’t make sense. 

“Why are you being so nice to me?” Murphy asked, his voice shaking and his shoulders hunching forward as if to protect himself from whatever Bellamy was about to say. “You’ve never...you’ve never been nice to me before.” Those words cut Bellamy. He was right though, he had never been kind to Murphy before, not without some sort of catch. Nothing ever came without a price for Murphy. The realization hurt, more than a little. 

“Because I want to be,” Bellamy said dumbly, knowing that his stare was starting to become awkward between them and he had to say something. Murphy looked at him strangely for a moment before the situation began to settle over him and he noticed how embarrassing it was for both of them. Surely, Bellamy didn’t actually want to be nice to him. He wasn’t dying, and he had been crying a moment ago…

Murphy pushed away, blushing and stumbling off the bed and towards the door. He was apologizing, his words uttered with stutters and mumbled replies. he was blushing still, his eyes turned down. He must have been so humiliating, and he still felt utterly humiliated. He had cried on Bellamy. He had probably been sick in front of him. He had slept next to Clarke...she must be angry at him. It seemed anything he did made her angry. 

“It’s okay,” Bellamy said, getting up quickly and grabbing Murphy’s arm, Clarke waking at his sudden movement. It took only a moment for her to take everything in, and immediately their plan went into action. They had talked about it a bit the night before when they had woken in the middle of the night to check on Murphy, and now it was time for it to be put into action. 

“Stay,” she ordered Murphy, trying not to sound too harsh. It was the tone she reserved for children, but Murphy had never heard it before and had no idea what it meant. He did freeze in his tracks though, Clarke’s tone of command condemning his want to escape the enclosed space with these two people who obviously weren’t fond of him. “I need to give you a check up when I get back. Stay,” she said again, letting herself out of the trap door, only her head above the floor.

Murphy did as he was told, sitting down heavily beside the trap door and resting his head on his knees. It made sense for Clarke to not want him to leave until she could check him out. She wouldn’t want him to infect anyone. That was normal, and even if that meant she really only cared for him because she cared for everyone else more, it was a lulling sense of normalcy that calmed him greatly. Bellamy was acting strange, but he blocked that out. He didn’t like the fact that things weren’t as they normally were. It made him uncomfortable, made him think something was up. Every Time someone acted strange around him something bad happened and it was always his fault. 

Bellamy sat on the bed, observing the strange boy from afar. He had never thought about what Murphy might be thinking, but he wondered now. He wondered what the boy was thinking his head cradled on his own legs, his arms wrapped around his legs and his thin shoulders shaking. He was wondering why. Why everything. Why Murphy?

=============================

Clarke walked into the middle of camp, her strides filled with purpose as they always were. She never did anything unless she had a reason to. She never spoke or moved without a reason, but there was always a reason. She was always talking and moving around, and now her reason was Murphy. 

“Listen up!” she shouted as she reached the middle of the camp, banging on the pot over their massive communal cook fire. It was empty. The wooden spoon served as a drum stick to bang the gong. The delinquents swarmed from all areas of the camp towards Clarke, the party growing as word of mouth began to spread. The camp wasn’t very populated, but it was sprawling. 

When everyone had gathered around Clarke began to speak, telling them everything they had learned about Murphy the night before. She asked them, pleaded nearly, for the camp to treat him kindly. She told them that he wasn’t any worse than she was, or Bellamy was, but while they respected them, they hated Murphy. When she had convinced the camp, with some pains, to treat the now youngest member of the delinquent band as a friend, or a brother, or a child, she ran back to the drop ship. It had taken longer than she had hoped, but a shorter time than she thought it would, to convince the camp. Now she had to get back to Murphy. 

She poked her head up, smiling when she saw Murphy was sitting at Bellamy’s feet. Bellamy had began to braid Murphy’s hair away from his face, a whispered conversation flowing easily between them. It was a strange, and admittedly, slightly uncomfortable picture to look at. She had seen Bellamy with Octavia in the past and the same energy was going between these two now. It seemed off that their connection was so instantaneous, but then Clarke remembered that they had been almost close when they had first landed. Both boys were eager for a fight, but while Bellamy’s eagerness ebbed away Murphy’s had been pushed forward by his surroundings. 

“Hey,” she said, pulling herself over the edge of the trap door and walking over to the two boys. Bellamy had tied of the braids with bits of string, and now it appeared he was finished. Murphy jumped a little at her voice, seeming to have not noticed her presence previously. She knelt down in front of him, trying to look friendly; It wasn’t a look she was used to wearing. “Can you tell me how you feel? Rate each complaint from 1-10,” she instructed. “Then you’re free to go, after we make some arrangements. We can do that outside, though.” 

“I...my head hurts,” Murphy said, nervously, though he looked Clarke in the eyes this time. She wondered if Bellamy had told him to do so. 

“Okay, can you rate it for me?” she asked, trying to smile encouragingly. He was doing a good job, being unusually receptive to her advances. It was strange to think, but she wonders if they had treated him like a kid from the beginning, if things would have been different. If he would have acted like one, like he was now. 

Murphy was silent for a moment, looking at his hands. She noticed that he had unusually clean hands, his nails filed and his skin smooth. She wondered if he liked nail polish like some of the kids on the Ark had. She wondered if Monty and Jasper could figure something out. She was sure quite a few of the delinquents would be into the idea. 

“I dunno, maybe 5?” he said, making it sound like a question. He sounded so unsure of himself...it was heart breaking, Clarke thought. She wondered why she had never noticed his insecurities. She knew the answer; she hadn’t looked. 

“Anything else?” she asked, nodding her encouragement. A headache wasn’t bad. It could be easily dealt with, but it didn’t seem that a headache would be his only pain after the night before. She had never seen someone so messed up without an outside force acting upon them, like the speare in Jasper's chest. She wasn’t looking at Bellamy, but she saw his hand come down and rest on the younger boy’s shoulder, a comforting touch. 

“My stomach hurts, but not very much anymore. Maybe 3,” he said, his words coming more easily as he settled into the interaction. 

“And what was it last night?” Clarke asked, making mental notes. He should be recovering nicely, and his words were just re-enforcement of her hopes. She had hoped he would be fine, but worried that he wouldn’t be. 

Murphy was silent again, trying to remember the gorey details of the night before. He had been pretty out of it. He could hardly remember. He just remembered being in a lot of pain. 

“9,” he told her, looking back at his hands. The situation wasn’t as weird as he thought it would be when Bellamy had told him that Clarke was sorry for what she had done to him and was ready to forgive him. She assumed that’s just how it was; One day you just decide to forgive someone. Maybe she had been punishing him, and now it was over. He hadn’t thought she would try to be nice though. He had expected she would just not ignore him as staunchly as she had been for the last several months. 

Clarke grimaced; That must have been awful, she thought. She knew that Murphy must have one of the higher pain tolerances she had ever heard of, and if he said it was 9 he was either not as strong as she thought (which she didn’t believe) or it had been really, really bad. 

“Anything else?” she asked for the final time. 

“No, not really. I am just tired,” Murphy mumbled, closing his eyes and letting his head fall into his hands. He looked so small...Clarke hoped, for his sake, that the delinquents would hold tight to their promises and treat him well when she brought him out with Bellamy and helped him move his tent next to theirs. She wanted to be able to keep a better eye on him. She wanted to be able to make sure he was okay. 

======================

Bellamy had his arm around Murphy when they got to the ground. Clarke noticed that Murphy wasn’t entirely comfortable looking with the new skinship, but she also noticed that he didn’t pull away. She noticed too that the looks people through their way were skeptical, but not outright hostile as they usually were when Murphy was involved. It was an improvement, and she hoped that it would stay as favourable as it was at the moment. 

Of course, good luck never lasts; It’s Murphy’s law-Everything can go wrong will go wrong. One of the less known delinquents jumped forward, aiming a rock at Murphy’s head. He was shouting that ‘though they may trust you, we don’t trust you! Murderer!’ Soon the other delinquents had surged forward and grabbed the male’s hands as Bellamy and Clarke moved quickly in front of Murphy, guarding him. 

He looked shocked. No one had ever tried to hurt him in camp, not since he got back. Sure, they ignored him, or gave him some harsh words now and then, but no one had tried to hurt him. Not like this, not on purpose. 

He wasn’t sure how to feel.

=======================

Raven showed Murphy how to build simple things that would be useful around camp. They started to make a coffee pot together after a hunting party had come back having found red berries which had proven to be coffee beans. It was their little project, and sometimes if you walked into Raven’s work room around 5 or 6 in the evening before Murphy was sent to bed you could find them seated around their table tinkering around with the buttons and the wires as they tried to create a suction that would work over a flame. 

Slowly people began to treat Murphy like the kid he was, helping him out when he needed it and trying to teach him skills they were shocked to find he had never learned. 

Octavia took him to the Grounder tribes when she went on hunting trips or visits. He was scared of them, petrified most of the time in his fear. They had tortured him simply because he was part of the sky people. The first time they visited the tribes he had broken down and cried outside of the gates, his knees buckling. He hadn’t been able to go in, even though Lincoln was standing just beyond the gate, trying to convince him it was okay. 

The second time was very similar, but on the third Octavia had forced him through the gates where he had collapsed into her arms, his breathing heavy and quick. He was having a panic attack. It lasted over an hour, but after Lincoln and Octavia had managed to talk him down they even got him to walk around a bit around the Grounder camp. Soon it wasn’t as bad, though Murphy was still stiff around the Grounders other than Lincoln. 

At night he sometimes had nightmares, but soon Clarke and Bellamy had learned how to help him deal with them. Clarke’s diagnosis of PTSD had proven to be true, though it was getting to be better as time moved on. When he would wake screaming he would find his way to Bellamy and Clarke’s tent, letting himself in and managing to wake the two. They were easily woken. Clarke would wrap her arms around him, letting him nuzzle into her shoulder until he calmed down again. Bellamy sat behind him, running his hands through Murphy’s hair (now kept clean) and fencing him in between Clarke and himself creating a safe place for Murphy. 

Soon he had learned to trust again. 

It’s one of the best and worst traits in children; Their ability to forgive and forget and learn to trust again as quickly as they can form a grudge. 

Murphy still had a hot temper, as kids do. Sometimes he would fight with kids years older than him because the rougher delinquents still treated him like dirt, but that was nothing new. Sometimes he would get angry at Clarke or Bellamy when they were too protective over him, just like a child with his parents. It became a comfortable routine, and by the time Murphy was 16 things were better. The sky people were no longer just a bunch of people who happened to be from the same place, they were a family, and Murphy was the baby.

**Author's Note:**

> Please review and tell me what you think ^^


End file.
